


all it takes is one more step

by mothicalcreatures (laelreenia)



Series: this is how my world gets made [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Beach Episode, F/M, Gender Identity, Trans Female Character, Vacation, historical concepts of gender, trans woman james, transterrorweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 01:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laelreenia/pseuds/mothicalcreatures
Summary: “I’d thought…” James hesitated.  “I’d thought maybe to call myself something Portuguese. I am from here and I since I can’t acknowledge that or my desire to be a woman in England, I thought… I thought I could be both here.”“Had you thought on any name in particular?” Francis asked, handing over James’ nightgown.“Well, the first one I thought of was Isabel.”
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Series: this is how my world gets made [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854826
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47
Collections: Trans Terror Week





	all it takes is one more step

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da. I rarely do challenges, but I couldn't not do this! This is my whole thing! Historical queer identity was the focus of my senior capstone, independent study, and my honors thesis. 
> 
> A few notes before I send you off. 
> 
> 1\. The pronoun and name switching is intentional to reflect a more historical concept of gender. I have noted the historical inspirations for this fic in the end notes. 
> 
> 2\. I have created two (2) trans james playlists for your listening pleasure. [ One is simply a trans woman James playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/39JM0zQ03iPGzHTTRSod4u) and [ the other is specifically fitzier](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/22vQtTVU7jUDu4BXUbr7C6). 
> 
> 3\. The title is from "Times Are Hard For Dreamers" from the musical Amelie, which is on the trans woman James playlist.

James took a deep shaky breath as he stared at the small house that he and Francis were renting for the next two weeks.

A holiday out of England had been Francis’ idea, and it had been James who had suggested Portugal because he knew the language and had long wanted to spend time there. Then, after they had started making plans, it had been Francis’ who quietly suggested one evening that, if they rented a place out of the way, in the country perhaps, where no one would recognize them, that James could spend a week or so actually getting to live as a woman day to day. It had been a tantalizing suggestion, though James hadn’t agreed right away.

Francis had discovered James… proclivities… completely by accident. He’d come home from a trip to Ireland a day earlier than expected and caught James lounging about their home in a dress. James had stumbled through excuses until Francis had hushed him, sat him down, and made him tea.

It had all come pouring out after that. The pressing thoughts in the back of his mind, what if he could be a woman? James could pinpoint exactly when they’d started. He’d long admired women, but it was natural for men to be desirous of women, so there had been little to think about, until he’d dressed as a woman for that production of “Chrononhotonthologos” and it had been the most thrilling experience of his life, which was saying something. 

He’d chased that thrill ever since, dressing in women’s clothes whenever he could find them. He never kept them, of course, he travelled around too much to risk being caught with women’s clothes in his possession. It would have ruined his career if he’d been caught. But he had no career anymore, just a bum leg and arm and Francis, who hadn’t cared one whit that James chose to spend his private moments pretending he was a woman.

More than not cared, when James’ next birthday came around that July, Francis had gotten him a brand new dress straight from the shops! James’ only other dress at that time had been an older dress of Elizabeth’s that he had stolen when she’d mentioned she intended to get rid of it. It had been quite old and fit him poorly, despite his best attempts at modifying it. The new dress had fit him much better, and was excitingly modern.

All that had led to now, to the little house in front of them in the Portugal countryside.

Francis put an arm around James’ waist as James stood staring at the house. “Shall we go inside?” He asked softly.

James let out another long breath. “Yes, yes… we should. I shouldn’t be seen dressed as a man if we want this to work.”

“I doubt there’s anyone awake at this hour,” Francis said, and it was true, it was well past midnight. “But you are right, we should tread with caution.”

Finally breaking away from staring at the house, James turned to gather his trunk of belongings, and headed for the door, which Francis had helpfully already unlocked.

The house was small, but roomy, with a living room, kitchen, and just one bedroom. There would be no servants coming in or out, no unexpected visitors, it would be two weeks of utter freedom for James, and he was horribly anxious about it.

Once they’d brought their trunks into the bedroom, James collapsed dramatically onto the bed. Francis smiled fondly at James before he went over to light the lamp at the bedside and draw the curtains.

“I suppose I should change now,” James said, turning his head to stare balefully at his trunk.

“I packed one of your nightgowns in my trunk,” Francis said. “I’ll get it for you and then we can stow your travel clothes.”

James pulled himself up into a sitting position and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Francis.”

Francis laughed softly as he popped open his trunk. “I could say much the same of you James.” He paused. “Have you decided on a name to go by?”

James had been undecided on just what to call himself when he was being a lady for some time. It felt inappropriate to call himself Louisa, after his aunt, and Jane, the name he’d been using before the expedition, now held too much an association with Lady Jane Franklin for James to feel comfortable using it.

However, there had been plenty of time to think of something on the journey down.

“I’d thought…” James hesitated.“I’d thought maybe to call myself something Portuguese. I am from here and I since I can’t acknowledge that or my desire to be a woman in England, I thought… I thought I could be both here.”

“Had you thought on any name in particular?” Francis asked, handing over James’ nightgown.

“Well, the first one I thought of was Isabel,” James said. “It’s a Spanish name as well, but there are enough similarities between the languages…”

James would have continued speaking if Francis hadn’t hushed him gently. “You don’t need to justify your choice, if you want to be Isabel, then that is what I’ll call you.”

James took a long breath and fidgeted with the nightgown in his hands. “Isabel, then. I’ll be Isabel.”He almost added, ‘while we’re here,’ but the feelings never stopped just because he was in England and Francis not only knew, he loved James all the same like this. He loved Isabel just as much as he loved James.

“Why don’t you get dressed for bed,” Francis prompted again, which was enough to finally get James off the bed to start undressing.

The following morning, James woke feeling surprisingly calm. Theworries that had been circling in his mind ever since they left England were quiet. Not about to waste a moment free of the fear that had been plaguing him, he carefully disentangled himself from Francis, who grumbled, but didn’t seem to wake, and climbed out of bed.

James didn’t open his trunk immediately upon getting up. He knew he should, he wanted his dressing gown for one, but for the moment he just knelt in front of the trunk thinking about the conversation he and Francis had had the night before, about his name… her name. It was odd, thinking of himself as Isabel, part of him worried that he ought to just continue going by Jane, despite the new associations with the name. It would be easier to correct if he or Francis slipped up out of habit, but he liked the name Isabel and wasn’t the whole reason they’d come here so that he could have a chance to reinvent himself as a woman properly?

When James finally unlocked his trunk and lifted the lid his breath caught in his throat. Inside, sitting right on top of his other clothes was a dress, so new that it was still wrapped in the paper from the shops. Francis must have ordered it and then snuck it into James’ trunk on the sly before they left. James had taken care to pack a separate bag when he was traveling, so he wouldn’t need to open his trunk and risk being caught out, and Francis knew that. As such, hiding a gift among James own belongings was genius.

He smiled as he carefully pulled back the paper to fully reveal the dress underneath. This must have been why Francis had one of James’ nightgowns packed in his own trunk, so that she wouldn’t see the new dress until the morning after they arrived.

The dress was a lovely dusty green silk with blue and gold embroidered flowers and leaves and, as James began to pull it out, he realized that there was a gold fringe on the sleeves as well. A watery smile crept over his face and he set the dress back down in the trunk.

There was a slight shuffle on the bed behind him and then Francis said, sounding quite concerned, “Do you not like the dress?”

“No, yes… It’s lovely,” James assured Francis. “I simply wasn’t expecting it.” He also hadn’t realized that Francis had been awake and watching.

“I got you a new bonnet as well, but it’s in my trunk as it wouldn’t fit in yours,” Francis explained, climbing out of bed himself to join James on the floor. He groaned as he seated himself next to James, “I’m getting too old to be doing that.”

James laughed slightly, wiping away the tears of joy that had welled in his eyes. “Then I don’t suppose you’ll be very pleased when I tell you I’d planned to get up so I could wash and get dressed.”

Francis huffed. “Of course you did, well you’ll have to help me up then.”

Sitting on the floor, and, even more so, kneeling on the floor, hadn’t been the best idea for James either, as his leg protested something fierce as he stood again, and helping Francis to his feet nearly sent them both tumbling back to the floor.

“Perhaps using the provided dresser and closet for our clothing might be better than leaving them in the trunks,” Francis suggested as the both of them, having regained their balance, began setting out their clothes for the day.

James nodded in agreement, he’d recovered well from the injuries, both old and new, he’d sustained on the expedition, but with his leg and back, simple things like kneeling down or bending over caused more problems that they were worth.

“Later though,” Francis continued. “I should like to see the town first, and we aren’t terribly far from the ocean if your leg doesn’t protest to much.”

It was a suggestion more for James… more for Isabel. Francis spoke little Portuguese, and what James had managed to teach him he didn’t speak particularly well. Any suggestion to go into town, a small village on the coast a good distance away from any major city, was to allow James the chance to walk among other people who would never know him as anything but Isabel Crozier.

James must have missed something Francis said, because there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder and Francis was looking at him very concerned.

“Is everything all right?” The question stopping a bit short as Francis kept himself from added ‘James’ to the end.

James smiled. “Yes, I just got a bit lost in thought. You know, I don’t think we ever discussed this, though we likely should have, but we’re going to have to say we’re husband and wife.”There was no other acceptable reason for a man and woman to be sharing a single bedroom house on holiday together.

That startled a laugh out of Francis. “So we are. Shall I help you get your dress on then, Lady Crozier?”

James flushed, there was something warm and giddy bubbling up inside her that she couldn’t quite name. Perhaps it was the reality of all this sinking in, that there really was no reason to be James here.

James took a breath to gather herself before giving Francis a rather teasing, “If you would be so kind.”

James could get dressed on her own, she’d had plenty of practice before Francis discovered her secret, but it was so much easier, so much nicer, to have help. So after she washed up, she let Francis help her into the dress. Well, it was gown in truth, a dress in two pieces would have been easier for her to put on alone. A gown required slightly more work, but James also doubted that Francis was aware of that particular distinction. James hadn’t been at first either, but early on, after Francis found out, he had encouraged her to go to shops to just look at things and the ladies there had been more than willing to explain differences to a man looking for something for perhaps a future spouse.

It had been such a wondrous experience, getting to know fabrics and hats, and figuring everything he liked. When Francis had first discovered James in a dress, James had been certain that the best case scenario would be Francis ignoring the situation, but then he’d bought James a new dress and started asking him about the kinds of things he wanted to wear. Now it was just a normal part of their relationship. Francis would come home and tell James about a dress he’d seen in a shop window that he thought James would look nice in, or that Sophia had mentioned in passing a new place she’d purchased a hat from and would James perhaps like to go and have look. It had been enough to make James feel like he was falling in love all over again.

In truth, that had really been what it was. He’d fallen in love with Francis once as James and then again as Isabel, or well, Jane, as that was the name she had still been using tentatively at the time.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Francis asked quietly, holding out a small capelet.

“I was just reminiscing on how we got here,” James said, fiddling with the fringe on her sleeves. “How much your little gestures to let me know things were still okay between us meant. I still feel quite baffled sometimes that you love me like this.”

Francis frowned slightly, setting down the capelet he held to take James’ hand. “I love you as Isabel just as much as I love you as James.”

James smiled. “I know, I didn’t mean to imply I thought you didn’t, I’m just constantly amazed that I get to have that love. And I’m not wearing the capelet, I’ll be warm enough in long sleeves.”

Francis chuckled. “It is warmer here than it is in England. I almost got you a dress with removable sleeves, in case you needed something cooler, but the patterning of it wasn’t nearly as nice and I didn’t want to risk trying to select another fabric for the cut.”

“I’m not sure the removable sleeves would have seen much use anyway,” James said. Her preference had always been for long sleeves in order to conceal the bullet wound on her arm, the scarring now more severe than it had been after healing over again. It made her self conscious at best and, now that she would be out in public, well, a lady with a bullet injury would cause questions no matter where they went and while James was a top notch storyteller it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about as Isabel.

“That was a mark against that dress as well,” Francis said. “I thought you might prefer the frivolity of the fringed sleeves.”

James beamed. “I do, though I worry I’m going to pull them out by playing with them.”

Next came hair. As James, he required short hair, he could get away with slightly longer hair provided he kept it well maintained, but getting it near the length he wanted it to do up in lady’s fashion was out of the question. And then one day quite out of the blue Francis came home with a little postiche hair piece that was a bun attached to a comb that James could attached to his hair to give it the illusion of being longer.

Her collection had only grown since then. Buns, curls, and other such extensions she could add and remove as she pleased. James had only brought a small sampling of that collection on the trip, as they were meant to be out and about in the country side this was not the time for anything fancy. Using her natural hair (and with Francis’ help), she affixed a bun to the back of her head as well as ringlets to frame her face.

“You look lovely, Isabel” Francis murmured as James stood from where she’d been seated.

James froze just a moment, feeling oddly jarred by hearing her chosen name.

“Is everything all right?” Francis asked, noticing James’ tension.

“Yes, yes,” James assured him. “I’m just not used to being called Isabel yet. The more we use it, the more I’ll get used to it I suppose.”

“I’m sure that is true,” Francis said. “Now, would you like to venture out to see if the market here is open to get breakfast or would you like to finish the last of our travel rations?”

They weren’t rations in the same sense as ships rations were, but it still made sense to call them that. In reality it was just what was left of the bread and cheese they had purchased for dinner before they’d caught a coach to take them out to their destination.

“Let’s finish those,” James said. “They’ll likely end up going to waste if we don’t. We can get supplies for lunch and dinner at the marketplace while we’re out.”

James couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped her, when she finally stepped outside fully dressed, including hat and the capelet, which she’d eventually decided to wear when she was trying to draw out actually leaving the house.

“How do you feel?” Francis asked, stepping out beside James.

James let out a long slow breath. “Good… really, incredibly good.”

Francis offered his arm to James. “Shall we head into town then?”

James smiled as she took Francis’ arm. “I would love to.”

* * *

When James, when Isabel, smiled Francis couldn’t help but think she was the most radiant thing he’d ever seen. It seemed hard to imagine now, a time when he hadn’t been utterly and maddening in love with her.

“We should do this again,” Francis said as they walked along the small dirt path that led into town.

Next to him, Isabel laughed. “Francis, we’ve only just arrived.”

“I know that,” he replied. “But you already seem happier, and it’s not as if we can’t afford to take yearly trips. I’m not saying we come back here every year, but there are other out of the way places where we won’t be recognized and you could…” He trailed off, wanting to hear Isabel’s response.

“I would like that.” Isabel said softly. “I know I’ve been awfully nervous, but this really is… freeing. I’d worried that leaving the house like this would leave me constantly looking over my shoulder, and maybe it would if we were still in London, but here it just feels like this could become something normal.”

Francis nodded. “You can hardly be blamed for your worry and there is reason for caution, but if trips like this can improve your happiness and wellbeing, I see no reason why we should limit this to just once.”

“And I would be glad for that,” Isabel replied. “I don’t think I realized just how much it was wearing on me to dress up and then never go out. Not that I don’t enjoy dressing up at home, but one wants to do things after a while. More than just sit around and read or draw, or do housework in a dress just for the novelty of it. It really is so much more difficult to clean in a dress, I nearly fell once trying to dust the top of the big book case in the parlor because my dress caught on something. I have half a mind to tell Mary to get some trousers if it would make her cleaning work easier.”

Francis laughed.

Isabel gave Francis a teasing shove with her free hand. “I’m serious! You’ve never gone about in anything but trousers, even a simple work dress is more cumbersome than that, to say nothing of what I’m wearing now.”

“That’s true,” Francis said. “And I must say I still find women’s clothing baffling even though I know what most of it’s for.”

“I must agree with you there,” Isabel said. “I count myself fortunate that I don’t have to wear dresses all the time. If I want to wear trousers I simply can. You know I’ve often half wondered what it would be like if I mixed and matched things. The bodice of a dress with a pair of trousers, a skirt with a shirt and a waistcoat,”

She leaned in a bit closer to Francis, whispering even though they were alone on the path to the town center. “What I might be able to get away with wearing out of the house.”

“Would you?” Francis asked.

“Maybe now that I’ve gone out properly once,” Isabel said. “But nothere, here I just want…” she trailed off.

“Want to be a regular lady?” Francis finished and he felt it when Isabel’s posture eased.

“Yes, I just want to pretend for a moment that I’m like every other woman in the world.”

Francis wanted to say something about how he liked that Isabel wasn’t like ‘every other woman in the world,’ but he refrained from saying anything. What Isabel needed right now was assurance and support, they could save the nuanced discussion for later.

“Well, Lady Crozier, as we are approaching town, I’m afraid I must change the topic of conversation and ask you how to tell me, once again, how to say, ‘good morning’ in Portuguese.”

Isabel laughed. “Very well, husband dear, repeat after me.”

Francis was not confident in his pronunciation by the time they entered the town proper, and was, in fact, feeling a bit self conscious about his Irish accent. Isabel’s sounded quite native to his ears, although she had assured Francis that the towns folk would likely be able to tell that she hadn’t lived her whole life here.

“I’m quite out of practice,” Isabel had said. “There’s no real need for Portuguese in England or the Arctic. It’s been a least a decade, likely longer, since I’ve had reason to speak the language.”

Still, it was more than Francis could say, but they had long since decided that Isabel would be their translator, so all Francis need do was learn how to do the polite greetings and then try to pick up what he could. Something he fully intended to do, it seemed frankly rude to go to someone else’s country and then not try to learn the language. It was why he’d made such an effort to learn Inuktitut. For now, however, he settled for listening in on Isabel’s conversations with shop keeps and outdoor market vendors, trying to match up the things Isabel was purchasing with words being said.

“I know you said you were out of practice,” Francis said as they left a small shop having purchased a basket for all their other purchases. “But if I’m not mistaken, you not only had a very competent conversation with that shop keeper, but also sweet talked her into selling you that basket, which I don’t think was originally for sale.”

“All I did was explain that we would be here for two weeks, and I hadn’t thought to bring anything to carry our purchases,” Isabel said. “There was no flattery involved. Well, not much.”

Francis shook his head, smiling fondly.

“And,” Isabel continued. “I’ll have you know that she told me that I speak Portuguese very well for an Englishwoman, though I did tell her that while I had been raised in England I was born in Brazil and my mother was Portuguese.”

“So you were right,” Francis said, laughing. “Is there anything you want to bring back to the house before we go down to the beach?”

“I think everything we bought should keep,” Isabel said. “Besides, I don’t want to lengthen our walk any. I’m going to need to sit down soon to rest my leg.”

“Should we pause now?” Francis asked. The last thing he wanted was for Isabel to over exert herself, as James had made the executive choice to leave all his canes at home. Francis had covertly packed one in his own trunk, but Isabel had seemed all right enough this morning that Francis hadn’t brought it up.

“No, I’ll be just fine,” Isabel said, though Francis wasn’t particularlyreassured.

“At least let me know when your leg starts to bother you.”

“I will,” Isabel said. “I certainly won’t let it get bad enough that you have to carry me home.”

They wound up having to pause for Isabel to rest just before they reached the beach proper. She hadn’t said anything, but, as they were once again walking arm in arm, Francis could feel her struggling, so when they came to a suitable area, he had helped her to sit down.

“I’m sorry Francis,” Isabel said. “I’d hoped I could get all the way there without trouble.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Isabel. The beach is just over the ridge, once we’ve rested it will be a very short walk.”

Isabel sighed, clearly not entirely happy despite Francis’ reassurances.

“The view from here is nice,” she said after a few moments. They could see the beach and the ocean in the distance, Francis had to admit it was a far prettier sight than the beaches of England.

“Perhaps we should come up here again when we want to eat. It may help us avoid getting sand in our food,” Francis suggested. 

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Isabel said. “You know, I’d had a thought to bring one of travel blankets we brought, but I completely forgot.”

She undid her capelet and started to fan herself with it. “Forgot my fan too. I told you I’d be warm in this.”

“Should I go back for it?” Francis asked.

“No, no, I’ll be all right,” Isabel said. “It’s really not so bad, and the breeze helps. I think I’lljust keep the capelet off and if it gets too much I can take off my underskirts as well, or get them wet.”

It wasn’t long after that Isabel declared that her leg was feeling better and insisted that they continue down to the beach. Francis did still worry, but Isabel did truly seem to having an easier time walking as they made their way down to the beach. He did himself insist on carry the basket, if only to give Isabel’s weak arm a break.

As soon as the reached the sand, Isabel immediately bent down to take off her shoes and stockings.

“I think the shoes were part of the problem, with why my leg was bothering me,” she said as they continued walking. “I’ve never walked long distances in this kind of shoe and they’re new so they haven’t been broken in.”

The shoes, like the dress, were brand new and had been purchased with this trip in mind. James hadn’t had any ladies shoes. There had never been a need as he’d never gone outside in his dresses before. He had plenty of stockings and house slippers, but he hadn’t had a single pair of ladies shoes.

“Well, they’ll be plenty broken in by the end of our time here,” Francis said and then he added, teasing, “I mean, if you actually wear them anyway.” 

Isabel laughed.

* * *

When Isabel found a spot that she deemed suitable she set down her shoes and made a beeline for the water. The spot she had selected was right next to the rocky edge of the beach. Exactly the kind of spot Goodsir might have pointed out as being a good space to collect specimens, which was why she had chosen it.

She glanced back briefly to see if Francis was following. He wasn’t just yet, but he was taking off his own shoes and rolling his trousers up with clear intent to follow after, so Isabel turned her attention back to the water and the rocks. She hiked her skirts and pulled her sleeves back as much as she was able and waded into the water.

It was easier to find critters in the tide pools, she found a very tiny little crab, but she left it be as she didn’t have the means to bring it home. Things like shells and mollusks she could put in their basket, but a crab would just escape.

“I should have brought my sketch book,” she muttered. In her harried state leaving the house, she’d forgotten a number of things she hadn’t realized would be important.

“Find anything interesting,” Francis asked, as he finally joined Isabel at the water’s edge.

“A little crab that I can’t bring back with us or draw,” Isabel said. “But I’ve only just begun. Will you walk along the rocks with me? You’ll be able to get further into the water than me. I want to look for starfish.”

“Starfish?”

Isabel nodded. “Yes, Goodsir suggested that I might be able to find some interesting new specimens here. Different from the ones you can find on England’s beaches.” 

She readjusted her skirts before starting out for the rock wall at the edge of the beach, Francis keeping pace next to her.

“I hadn’t thought to look for interesting creatures until we arrived,” Isabel admitted. “I wish I’d come a bit more prepared, but there’s always tomorrow. I’ll wear one of my work dresses so I won’t mind it getting wet.”

“I hate to point it out, but your dress has gotten a bit wet,” Francis said.

“I know, it would have been impossible to keep it completely dry, but it’s only at the very edges, in one of my work dresses I can just wade out without have to think about it. I do call them my work dresses for a reason you know.”

Francis chuckled. “Of course.”

Isabel (and Francis at her direction) spent the next few hours pouring over the rocks and tide pools, before Isabel decided she wanted to walk further along the beach and that they should put their current collection in the basket as it would be a lot to carry down the beach.

“Are you sure you want to bring the starfish back now?” Francis asked. “We don’t have the supplies to preserve it properly.”

Isabel hummed in thought. “Perhaps you’re right. I didn’t think to ask Goodsir about that before we left. This is a vacation after all, not a scientific expedition.”

“Of course with you all travels become scientific expeditions,” Francis said and Isabel laughed.

“It’s hardly my fault I find the animals of the world fascinating! You know, when I told Goodsir about the cheetah, he immediately started asking me all sorts of questions and I admit, I now regret not watching the beast with more of a scientific eye.”

She set the starfish they’d collected back into the water near a rock. They still had enough shells and things that she didn’t mind the loss of one specimen. “I know Goodsir kept Jacko in a jar of alcohol for a time. Let’s see if we can get our hands on any alcohol and, if we can, I’ll try my hand at preserving a starfish.” 

They walked along the beach from there with Isabel stopping every so often to exam things in the water and Francis glancing back to see how far they were getting from where they’d left their things. Suddenly Isabel spotted something large and blobby on the beach ahead of them and she picked up her place in order to investigate.

It was a Portuguese man o’war, a big one, washed up on the beach. Isabel bent down to prod at it’s bulbous top with a finger.

“Ja- Isabel, what are you doing those are dangerous,” Francis said, hurrying up beside her.

“I’m being careful,” Isabel said, still poking around at the creature’s bulb. “It’s only the tentacles that sting.” Though in truth, she did want to touch them, just to know what it felt like.

She sighed. “I really wish I’d brought my sketch book now.”

“Isabel.”

She hmm’d in acknowledgment and kept prodding at the man o’war, now using both hands to push it around. Then she picked it up, or tried to, she kept it close to the ground in an effort to avoid the stinging tentacles.

“Isabel, please… If you put that down I will back to the house to get your sketch book so you can draw it.”

Isabel paused, and then slowly lowered the jellyfish back the ground. “All right,” she said. “I’ll leave it be until you get back and if I need to move it around any more I’ll find myself a piece of drift wood. Only…”

“Only?” Francis prompted when Isabel made no move to continue speaking.

Isabel shook her head. “It’s nothing. Being left on my own while in a dress is just… it feels a bit different when I’m not tucked away in my own home.”

“I can stay if you’d rather.”

“It’s really all right Francis,” Isabel assured him, rising slowly from where she’d been crouched in front of the jellyfish. “And I would like my sketch book. Thank you. Tomorrow I’ll be more diligent about bringing what I need.”

“I’ll bring a blanket too, so you’ll have somewhere to sit while you draw. I imagine your leg will be needing a rest soon.”

It needed a rest now frankly, but Isabel didn’t say that, she wouldbe fine until Francis returned. The walk wasn’t terribly far.

True to her word, Isabel spent the first few minutes after Francis left hunting for an acceptable piece of drift wood to poke at the man o’war with. Since her leg was in fact bothering her, she didn’t search for too long and didn’t wind up finding anything. Most of the drift wood she had encountered was either too big or too small to be useful. In the end, she seated herself in the dry sand above where the man o’war lay, settling in to wait for Francis.

Except, James had never been particularly good at waiting around doing nothing. On a ship, even if you had to wait for things, there was always something to be done. It only made sense that this sort of impatience would rear its head when he was Isabel as well. They were, essentially, the same person after all.

So after sitting still for as long as she could stand, Isabel got up, dusted off her dress and returned to her investigations of the man o’war. She knew touching the tentacles would be a bad idea. She’d never been stung by a man o’war, but James had known people on ships who had been, and they’d described the pain as excruciating and if you were stung enough it could cause breathing problems that could kill you.

But surely it wouldn’t be terribly bad if you just touched it with a few fingers, and she did want to know what it felt like. She could include a note about it along side the drawing in her sketch book and then do a more thorough write up in her journal later. Yes, that sounded like a good idea, she would go about this carefully and scientifically, and with any luck, Francis wouldn’t need to know at all. Before she had time to talk herself out of it, Isabel reached out and picked up one of the tentacles with her fingers.

The pain was immediate and excruciating and Isabel dropped the tendril not two seconds later. Her first thought was to wash her hand off in the water, which she followed, not really knowing how else to treat a man o’war sting. She had assumed, naively, that much was clear, that the pain would be limited to where she’d touched the jelly fish. This was not the case, and the pain spread to encompass her entire hand very quickly.

Isabel knew that sailors wisdom would call for urinating on the stung area, but her nethers were currently ensconced in very much clothing. While ladies drawers were typically crotchless, Isabel’s were not, because her penis did not magically disappear when she stopped being James and she needed something to keep it in place. But the stinging did not subside from putting her hand in the water, nor from burying her hand in the wet sand, so at this point it was worth at least trying it. And there was no one around to see her.

It helped. Maybe. Or maybe the pain was just starting to get better on its own. Isabel really couldn’t tell. After rearranging her under things she went back up to the spot where she and Francis had left their basket and her shoes and stockings. Her fingers were streaked with red throbbing welt that Francis would surely notice when he came back. Unless they faded by then, but Isabel wasn’t sure how likely that would be. At least it wasn’t the hand she wrote and drew with.

By the time Francis returned the pain in her hand had faded to a dull throb. It was still very much there, but if she really put her mind to it, she could ignore it.

“I don’t know if I should find it suspicious that you’re sitting up here by our things instead of over by that jelly fish you were so keen on earlier.”

Isabel flushed. Francis knew her entirely too well. “I may have touched one of the tentacles,” she admitted, pushing herself up with her good hand.

“Are you all right,” Francis asked, all but throwing the items he was carrying to the ground to reach for Isabel’s hand, which she, in turn, held out to him.

“It’s not that bad, the pain has faded some, I’m sure it will be fine bytomorrow.”

Francis sighed, carefully taking Isabel’s hand in his own. “Do you know that?”

“Not for certain, but this is hardly a case of ‘I fell overboard into school of them’ situation,” she said. “I’ve had worse, you’ve seen me suffer worse and live.”

Francis stared at Isabel for several moments, clearly torn betweenscolding her further and exasperated acceptance.

“I don’t know why I expected anything else from you,” Francis said at last, smiling fondly. “Would you still like to set up to draw the jelly fish?”

“I would,” Isabel said. “But let’s eat first. I got hungry waiting for you to come back.”

Isabel spent the rest of the afternoon drawing, the pain in her hand growing less and less as time went on. After doing several sketches of the man o’war from various angles, she and Francis had returned to the rock wall and the tide pools, where she sketched starfish and some small crabs and other things until the tide began coming in to cover the pools.

“We should likely get back to town before the market closes so we can get food for dinner,” Isabel said, grimacing as she pulled herself to her feet. She had perhaps overtaxed herself today.

Francis noticed, because of course he did. He always noticed when James was feeling unwell. “Is your leg bothering you?”

“No, well, yes. It’s my back,” Isabel said. “So everything hurts really. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do much tomorrow.”

“Will you be all right to walk back or should I make an attempt to carry you?” It was partially teasing, Isabel knew.

James was quite tall and Francis suffered his own frailties from the expedition, so him being able to actually carry her was unlikely, but Isabel also knew that Francis would do everything he could to help her manage the walk back to their rented house.

“I do think I’ll manage,” she said. “But we’ll have to stop frequently, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Francis assured her. “We can take all the breaks you need.”

A good number of breaks later saw Francis and Isabel returning to the town just as the sky was beginning to look properly dark.

Isabel sighed. “We may be too late to get anything more to eat. I’m sorry Francis.”

“Don’t apologize, Isabel,” Francis said. “I’d rather go to bed a bit hungry than see you in pain.”

She sighed again. “I suppose…”

Isabel cut herself off abruptly, however, when she noticed a young girl making her way intently toward them. Motioning for Francis to wait, Isabel went to greet the girl.

The girl, as it turned out, was named Miguela, and her grandmother, the shop keeper Isabel had purchased the basket from, had sent Miguela out to see if she could locate Isabel and her “English husband” and invited them to dinner. It would seem the grandmother had remembered Isabel saying that while she was from Portugal, she had little experience with Portuguese food.

Isabel assured Miguela that they would love too, but she did need toask her husband.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Francis asked. “Given your…”

“My what? My back? Or the fact that I’m not really a woman?” It came out a bit more sharply than Isabel intended and she apologized almost immediately.

“I was mostly referring to your back,” Francis said, slowly. “I thought you might want to lie down, but we will be sitting at dinner.”

“I really am sorry, Francis. I meant to just ask and then it came out so…”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Francis said. “Now why don’t you let that young girl know we’d be more than happy to join her family for dinner.”

Dinner was nothing short of wonderful as far as Isabel was concerned. It was fun, the food was good, and Isabel was feeling much more confident in her Portuguese, and herself in general, by the time she and Francis said good night and started for home.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, but they were making fun of me for my attempts at speaking Portuguese?” Francis asked.

“A bit, yes, but they also appreciated your attempts,” Isabel said. “Apparently most Englishmen who come through this way just have a translator with them, and I suppose that’s what I am for you in a sense, but you’re making good headway and you’re trying, which is the key difference.”

“It helps that I’ve had a good teacher who’s been coaching me since we left England.”

Isabel smiled. “And being here will be an even better teacher.”

“Perhaps if I learn enough we can use Portuguese as a way to talk more freely about your time spent as a lady,” Francis said. 

“Perhaps indeed.” She paused in her steps as the house came into view.

Next to her, Francis paused as well. “What’s worrying you?”

Isabel chuckled and then sighed. “You know me too well.”

She was quiet for several moments before she spoke again. “Part of me feels like going back inside and taking off this dress means going back to being James and… I’m not sure I want to do that. At least, not yet. I have to eventually.”

“There’s no reason for you to be James here at all unless you want to be,” Francis replied quietly. “You have night gowns to wear to bed, dressing gowns as well. You have plenty of dresses and we also can wash what we need to. I think today’s dress might need to be cleaned up a bit, I can do that tomorrow, while you have a lazy morning in bed.”

Isabel’s chest felt tight, like she might start crying at any moment. “You’re so wonderful to me, Francis. I really can’t believe how I lucky I am sometimes.”

“You’re no luckier that I am,” Francis said, taking Isabel’s arm. “Now I am going to insist we head in so you can sit down, you’re looking a bit wobbly.”

Isabel wiped her eyes, smiling. “All right. I do like your idea about lying down that you mentioned before dinner.”

Francis laughed, and Isabel let him lead her inside so she could begin the ordeal of undress for bed.

For the first time, when Isabel removed her dress, it didn’t feel like an end, it felt like a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical notes:
> 
> 1\. I based James' conceptualization of her gender on several primary sources including "Man Into Woman" the Lili Elbe memoir/biography and several letters and narratives from trans women that were published in the fifth issue of the magazine Das 3. Geschlecht (The 3rd Sex) which came out in I believe 1932, so more modern, but still early days. In particular there was an essay from a woman named Emmy M., which describes a vacation she took to the Selke Valley in order to spend time as a woman, which she couldn't do in her day to day. This was the base inspiration for this entire fic.
> 
> A quote from my own translation of the magazine issue:  
"From my own experience I can here, to all transvestites, speak and advise, spend your vacations according to your mental attitude as a woman in freedom and spontaneity."
> 
> 2\. Real life James Fitzjames did in fact perform in drag in the play mentioned in the fic. He played the leading lady, Queen Fadladinida.
> 
> 3\. [ This is the dress that James is wearing. ](https://historicaldress.tumblr.com/post/162637140818/changeable-silk-brocade-gown-c-1855-1-piece)


End file.
